“He is not here just this moment, Mrs. Laurens. You have been sick, and here is your brother-in-law, the doctor, who has been attending to you.”
She met Charley Laurens’ compassionate blue eyes fixed on her, and instant consciousness returned to her mind. Burying her face in the pillow her slight form shook heavily with anguished sobs.
“Let her alone, Phebe. Let nature have its way, and she will feel better after weeping,” said the sympathetic young doctor.
He was right, for when the tempest of sobs and tears had exhausted itself Molly began to grow quiet, and at last turned her pathetic, wet eyes on his face, and said, with a sort of wistful anger:
“Why are you here when all the rest have turned against me and gone away?”
He answered, gently:
“I came and found you sick and alone save for your faithful maid. I stayed then to help to make you well.”
With a restless movement she rejoined:
“I do not want to get well! You ought to know that. I want to die!”
“That is nonsense, my dear little sister, and I do not want to hear any more of it,” was the cheerful response.